


A Night at the Movies

by nothandlingit



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7908127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothandlingit/pseuds/nothandlingit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She never really had the money for cinema visits as a child, so she's making up for it now. She might even be able to enjoy it if the guy behind her would stop kicking her chair. Captain Swan movie theatre AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night at the Movies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lifeinahole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeinahole/gifts).



> I have had a tiny little struggle with writer’s block these last couple of months, but this fic was important to finish because I started it right around @lifeinahole’s birthday. And I really thought I should finish it before her next one ;) To someone who has been an exceptional friend, beta and all round spectacular person, HAPPY EPICALLY BELATED BIRTHDAY! Hope you enjoy this slice of AU fluff.

_“To infinity and beyond!”_

Emma has to fight to not turn around and tell the guy behind her that infinity is _exactly_ where she will be kicking him if he doesn’t stop kicking the back of her chair.

She’s never really had the money for luxuries such as cinema visits. As a child, she could sneak in and no one would be any wiser, but hiding at the tail end of a group of kids is a lot harder when you’re a full grown adult. So, every once in a while, Emma waits until her local cinema hosts their Disney marathon nights and goes all out on popcorn, soda and enough candy to give her dentist a heart attack.

She’d missed out on so many movies as a child and she figures adulthood is as good a time as any to catch herself up. Not to mention one of her best friends works for the cinema and free tickets never go astray.

Tonight is the _Toy Story_ trilogy and, while the crowd usually thins out after the first film of the evening, parents having brought their children along for an hour and a half of silence before they send them to bed, right now the cinema is pretty packed.

And she has got Kicky McKickster sitting behind her apparently.

_Thump._

Right on cue.

She rolls her eyes, takes a deep breath and reminds herself that there are children around so she can’t tell him to fuck the hell off. And she’s already thrown a loathing look over her shoulder on more than one occasion so, if he didn’t get the hint then, she’s not sure another pointed glare is going to help.

They’re only a third of the way through the first film, surely he won’t keep it up for the whole night. She sure as hell knows that the intermission between the first and second movie will be spent finding an empty seat far away from any kicking potential.

Throwing some more popcorn in her mouth, she tries to concentrate on the movie again watching as Woody tells Buzz he wasn’t flying but “falling with style”. She smiles at the line and settles back in her seat, trying to forget the man behind her and the annoying tick in his leg.

And, honestly, he lulls her into a false sense of security because the next time she feels a sharp kick to the back of her seat is when a group of green alien toys are declaring ‘the claaaaw’ as their leader. But no, she wouldn’t get to enjoy the rest of that scene because she’s jolted forward in her seat and, this time, she can’t help but fling herself all the way around to maybe rip off this guy’s leg or something. Anything is possible.

Until she meets the eyes of a very cheeky looking child.

The voice in the back of her head tells her that she still has every right to be mad but this kid has dimples and who is she to argue with dimples?

“ _Roland!”_ comes a harsh accented whisper from behind the dimpled child, accompanied by a sharp tug backwards and onto the seat next to… _ohhhh_ …the guy she’s been accusing in her head of kicking her seat for the last hour.

Suddenly blue eyes meet hers in apology and she feels her features soften at the clear sincerity in them. Seems that this Roland has been the culprit behind her interrupted movie tonight. She nods at the man; she can see that he’s at least _trying_ to stop the dimpled child from kicking again which is more than some parents would do.

Turning back around and reaching down to the insane candy bag at her feet, she pulls out a small packet  of M&Ms. She can feel the eyes of the people sitting next to her burning into her sides at the noise, so she knows she needs to make this a quick exchange. She turns to face Roland again, holding up the bag of sweets and raising her eyebrows in question at the man.

His eyes widen and he nods eagerly and she wonders how the poor guy is so underprepared for his own kid. She throws the packet over the back of her chair and watches for a second as the man seemingly bribes Roland with the candy.

Smiling, she turns back to the movie, settling into her seat and trying to catch up on what she’s missed. The back of her seat doesn’t shake any more.

…

“I am _exceptionally_ sorry,” comes that smooth accented voice from behind her.

There was a line up at the hand driers and no paper towels in the dispensers, so she’s wiping her hands on her jeans when she nearly runs straight into the blue-eyed English guy with a now sleeping Roland on his hip.

She resists the instinct to literally jump backwards, instead blinking wildly before recovering and accepting his apology with a nod. “For the kid kicking my chair or your blatant stalking?” she asks wryly, hoping that he’s not some creepo serial killer who’s decided she’s his next play thing.

He huffs out a breath which almost sounds like a laugh, like he’s realised his mistake, and she feels relief flood her veins. Not a serial killer then.

“You’re right, I probably owe you a multitude of apologies now.”

“You keep Roland, was it, from kicking my seat for the next movie and we’re even,” she offers, already planning on sitting far away from the child anyway.

The man smiles, “Well, luckily for you, I need to get Roland home before his father figures out I cheated in my babysitting duties.”

Oh, so _not_ his son.

“I suppose our deal is done, then,” she says slowly, while trying to think of something witty to keep the conversation going just a little longer. She hasn’t done this in…a while. And she’s not exactly looking for someone to trust and hold dear, but he’s definitely good looking and seemingly single, so what’s the harm in chatting with him? After a moment and admitting to herself that she has absolutely nothing flirty to say in reply to him though, Emma resigns herself to the fact that maybe she just can’t pull a one-night stand from the cinema. Especially when said one-night stand potential has a child wrapped around him.

Instead of nodding and accepting the out she’s given him though, he inclines his head in curiosity before saying, “I hear _The Lion King_ is next month’s movie. I don’t think Roland has ever seen it.”

She frowns because he technically hasn’t asked a question, yet she feels compelled to say, “Yes!” to him. Quashing that inclination, she instead nods subduedly and admits, “I haven’t seen it either.”

He raises a questioning eyebrow at that, then, before he can say anything else, the crowd is being called back into the theatre for the second movie of the night.

“I’d better go,” she says, grabbing her half eaten popcorn and turning back to head into the cinema.

“Wait,” he says and she stops. He holds out his free hand, “Killian.”

She smiles, somehow managing to move her food and drink around in her arms so that she can take his hand with her own, “Emma.”

“Emma,” he repeats, her name somehow sounding like sin coming from him. And she has got to go, but her hand is still in his and…

“ _Toy Story 2_ starting in two minutes,” comes the voice of the poor woman who has to work these night shifts.

“Enjoy the movie,” he says, letting go of her hand and taking a step back. She smiles and nods, turning and walking back into the cinema.

He calls out that he’ll see her next time and she flicks her head around to nod at him, not believing for a second that this guy will show up a month down the track just for her.

…

“But I _need_ you to be there,” David whines, one step away from dropping to his knees to beg.

Emma watches him with pity in her gaze. “You don’t need me for anything,” she says, opening the pantry and pulling out the stash of candy she’d hidden in there earlier in the week. “You can have an adult conversation with another adult without me there to baby sit.”

Pulling the bag from her hands, her flatmate urges her around to face him. “I’m not good at this. And this girl; she’s amazing. I need someone to…”

But Emma’s not having any of it. Not even hearing him out, she cuts him off, “You need someone to be a third wheel. And it’s not going to be me. Not again.”

The last time David had met someone, he’d been so nervous to meet up with her by himself that Emma had reluctantly tagged along. Turns out that she wasn’t needed though and she’d spent the evening turning down drinks from a guy named Walsh, who would just _not_ leave her alone, while David and Katherine had spent the night wrapped up in each other.

“That was one time. I’ll invite a friend along; I’ve actually been meaning to introduce you to one of the guys from work.”

She snatches the candy back from her flatmate’s grip and settles him with a stern glare, “First of all, once was enough. And secondly, you can’t call them “guys from work” when they’re people you befriended while they were in holding.”

“It wasn’t his fault,” he argues, referring to the one time he’d ended up going for beers with a man he’d arrested. They’ve had this conversation before, many a time, but Emma’s really not in the mood today. Seemingly sensing that and switching tactics, David rounds on her again, “What is it with you and this movie night anyway? You’ve had this one planned all week.”

She frowns, uncomfortable with where this conversation could potentially lead, “I always go to the Disney movies. You know that.”

He narrows his eyes, “Yeah, but you usually buy your candy on the day and you never wear your good jeans and is _that_ lip gloss?” He reaches out to touch her top lip, squinting at the pale pink liquid that comes away.

Emma rolls her eyes, trying to get out of the kitchen and away from this line of interrogation. There’s a reason David’s a good cop and it’s not because of his adoration for donuts. “My baggy jeans are in the wash,” she says in her defence, but it’s too late and her friend has already got her figured out.

“Oh, you’re going on a date.”

Well, maybe not all the way figured out.

“No,” she says honestly, pushing past him to get out from under the overprotective big brother glare he has fixed her with. “But you _are_. So you’d better go get out of your uniform if you want to impress this girl. Unless…is she _into_ that sort of thing?”

And just like that, the heat is off her and back onto her flatmate and long-time friend as his eyes widen and he takes a step back towards his room, “Okay, but I expect a complete debrief at the conclusion of the evening. I need to do a background check before I give my blessing.”

“Need I remind you that I have access to those background checking facilities as well.” She swears that he forgets she’s a cop as well, just because they work at separate precincts. “I already looked into this Mary Margaret that you’re seeing tonight. She seems lovely, okay? Don’t fuck it up.” She says, rolling her eyes again and pushing him out of the kitchen, grabbing her bag of candy and her purse.

And if she stops at the mirror in the hallway to fix her lip gloss, that’s her own business, thank you very much.

…

She honestly doesn’t expect him to show up. And she wouldn’t blame him either. It’s been a month, she gave him absolutely no means of communication and, well, when do these things ever work out in her favour anyway?

But it still stings when she’s speaking to her friend Elsa at the cinema counter and she has to request the usual; ticket for one.

Because, sure, she’s thought about him with his stupid blue eyes and annoyingly smooth accent, all that charm oozing from him. She allowed her mind to wander in his general direction while she was spending another evening with David, navigating him through a minefield of text messages to eventually arrive at a second date with the woman he’s been pursuing. She even resisted finding out his surname and running a background check on him at work, content to let whatever this was unfold naturally.

Except he hasn’t shown and, maybe it’s the fact that she’s seeing a children’s movie, she feels a little bit like throwing a small tantrum at how unfair the world can be.

She’s always lived her life for herself, always gotten by without anyone else. And that’s always worked for her.

So sue her if she’d been kind of, sort of, a little bit looking forward to having a guy interested in her.

She settles into her seat, sneakily slipping her shoes off and tucking her feet up underneath her, placing her extra large popcorn on the empty seat next to her and getting her bag of candy sorted out so she can make as little noise as possible when the movie starts.

And then she feels it, the soft hit of a piece of candy to the back of her head. She sits up straight, fighting the urge to turn around and give the little shits who are throwing their food the satisfaction of knowing they hit their target. What is it with the movies these days anyway? Why can’t she just sit in peace and eat her excessive amounts of food and live a childhood in her adulthood? Who the hell comes to _The Lion King_ to piss people off anyway?

Waiting a few more moments, she subtly turns her head just enough that she can scope out the back right hand side of the cinema. It’s only a quick glance, but she can’t see any potential wrong-doers there, so she turns to the left and… Of-fucking-course.

If it wasn’t the fact that he’s standing there, seemingly waiting for her to spot him, the giant grin on his face would have given it away. And she’d almost be tempted to just straight up ignore him for the childish prank, but Roland is standing right next to him, a hand over his mouth, his little dimples showing with his apparently uncontrollable giggles.

And, well, shit. She can’t be mad at _that_.

The pair come down the stairs and into her row of seats, Roland reaching her first and not even hesitating to move her giant popcorn, taking up the seat right next to her. “Hi,” he says as though he’s known her for years, “Can I have some of your food?”

Killian is still lumbering along the row of seats, dodging legs and bags, but his eyes still widen at Roland’s words. “Roland!” he says, his voice a harsh whisper, “Your father would not be pleased with your manners right now.”

The young boy rolls his eyes, then looks back at Emma. “Can I have some of your food, _please_?” he asks this time, eyes darting back to Killian for approval as he finishes his question.

Emma smiles at him, reaching into her bag, “Tell you what. I’ve heard there are some sad parts in this movie. You hold my hand if I’m crying and you can have all the candy you want.”

Roland looks like all his Christmases have come at once, nodding eagerly as Emma hands him a small packet of gummy bears. She can feel Killian’s narrowed eyes on her, but doesn’t look up.

“You know, people generally _ask_ if they can feed the child high amounts of sugar,” he says, taking a seat on the other side of Roland.

“Hmm,” she hums, shrugging her shoulders as she helps Roland open the plastic, “I mean, you were teaching him how to infuriate cinema guests. So really, I’m not the bad guy here.”

Killian just slumps down in his seat, muttering under his breath about how the kid has more game than he does. He reaches over to steal one of Roland’s newly acquired gummy bears and Emma can only laugh when the boy turns to Killian and tells him, “You have to say please,” before snatching the packet away.

…

Roland’s little fingers close around her hand when Mufasa dies and it almost makes her cry more. Then she looks over she sees his other small hand wrapped around Killian’s and, when her eyes flick up to see that he’s trying his hardest not to cry himself, it hits her that maybe she and Roland aren’t the only ones who haven’t seen this movie. She tries not to stare, but there’s something in his eyes that’s awfully familiar, something like a lost childhood and a forgotten innocence that she sees when she looks in the mirror herself.

But then he catches her and it’s all charming smiles again, the façade back in place.

She finds herself wanting to ask about that, wanting to know more about the guy in the cinema who she knows absolutely nothing about. Except that he is excessively handsome, cares for his friend’s kid on occasion and is named Killian.

That is it. That’s all she knows and she is so damn intrigued it’s almost frustrating.

“I know you paid for the next movie, but I’d be happy to reimburse you in return for your company. Perhaps we could get a drink?” he asks as they leave the cinema after the last credit has rolled.

The thing about being intrigued by him is that the last few guys she has let herself be wrapped up in have all turned out to be people she definitely shouldn’t have allowed into her heart. So, Emma Swan does what Emma Swan does best and she pulls away – he needn’t know that she doesn’t pay for her tickets anyway. “With a sleeping child?” she asks, raising her eyebrows and angling her shoulder so that she’s no longer facing him head on. She’s an expert in the art of defensive body language and she’s kind of hoping she can put him off.

She’s also kind of hoping she _doesn’t_ put him off, but that’s not something that she’s going to address right now.

He sighs, resigned, and nods reluctantly, “You raise a good point, lass. Perhaps another time, then?”

And it would be cruel to string him along when she has absolutely no intention of following through, but instead of rebuffing him a second time, she finds herself with a question already halfway out of her mouth before she can stop it, “ _The Little Mermaid_ is showing next Friday.”

And, god, it is worth it for his smile, brilliant and hopeful, his nod eager, “I’ll be here.”

She rolls her eyes for good measure, just to be sure that he knows how much she doesn’t expect him to show up, “Easy tiger.”

His only response is a chuckle and a wave as she walks back into the cinema for the second movie of the night and, yeah, maybe she’s hopeful too.

…

“I need to borrow Roland for the night.”

Robin turns around from playing trains with his son, eyeing Killian carefully, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the blonde woman who keeps feeding him sweets at the cinema, would it?”

_Ah, caught_.

He kicks his toe to the ground, shrugging in a completely adorable way that might get him out of trouble if his best mate were into men. But Robin definitely prefers the company of women, so he just rolls his eyes and shakes his head, “Mate, I have plans with Roland tonight.”

At that, the young boy pipes up, “We’re playing baseball!” And he sounds so damn excited that Killian can’t even bring himself to beg that he come to _The Little Mermaid_ instead. “And then we’re getting ice-cream!” he adds.

Robin looks at his son with betrayal in his eyes. Killian, for his part, just raises his eyebrows, “Oh, so it seems that Emma is not the only on plying Roland with sugar.”

Robin doesn’t miss a beat though, “So the blonde lass has a name!”

Killian grumbles something about the unfairness of whatever game Roland and his father are playing at, waving a hand through the air in resignation and turning on his heel.

His friend frowns, “That’s it? That’s all you came here for? To use my son.”

Turning back around, grimace fixed firmly on his face, Killian nods. “Sorry?” he says, sounding completely unconvincing.

Robin’s voice softens, “Killian, if she’s worth going back for, maybe try seeing her without the buffer of an adorable child.”

He nods, accepting his friend’s advice with sincerity. Both being British expats, they had met over a couple of pints as they’d both yelled at a bartender when he’d switched the channel from the football. It was only soon after that that Robin’s wife, Marian, has passed away from cancer, leaving her husband and her son behind. It’s only been in the last few months that Robin has started taking an interest in the female population again so, if he is going to give some relationship advice, Killian is damn well going to accept it.

Which is how, approximately two hours later, he finds himself buying a ticket for one at the cinema. He’s just about to insert his card in the reader and is debating the etiquette of the night – is it a date? Should he buy Emma’s ticket? What if she’s already in the theatre? – when there’s a light tap on his shoulder. He turns, still running these questions through his head, and is met by the lovely creature herself.

“You don’t need a ticket,” she says, sharing a smile with the other blonde lass behind the counter. The woman’s eyes widen in recognition as she nods, winks and easily moves onto the next customer in line. Emma tugs him to the nearby cinema entrance, without another word, presenting two tickets at the door and completely negating the debate he’d been having about buying hers for her.

She smiles, looking over her shoulder as he follows her wordlessly into the dim-lit theatre. “It’s not that big a deal,” she says honestly, leading them to the middle row of seats, “Elsa and I go way back.” He assumes Elsa is the woman behind the ticket counter. “I had a ticket for Roland too, but it looks like you’re flying solo tonight.”

He smiles, thinking of his earlier conversation with Robin, “He is a well sought after child. Too busy for my schedule tonight.” After a beat, he adds, “And thank you. For the ticket as well.”

She waves a hand dismissively, “Really, it’s nothing.” She then takes a seat, beginning to set herself up, popcorn on the chair next to her, candy in reach, “I have to say that I’m glad he’s spending time with someone other than you tonight.”

Well that’s…unexpectedly open of her. He takes the seat beside her and begins to lift the arm rest between them; maybe Robin was right, maybe he needs to be a little bolder and more open. “Aye, love. I have to say that I’m glad too.”

She turns around at that and the look on her face makes him think he should maybe dial back the flirt a little. Nevertheless, he continues to raise the armrest until it’s locked into place behind them.

She eyes him warily, “I just meant that it’s probably a good thing that he spends time with people who don’t teach him all the worst cinema habits.”

He grins at that justification for her words, “And I meant that I’m glad I get to be the option for you to hold hands with if things get too sad.”

Her eyes narrow as she takes him in for a long moment and, though he’s never been in trouble with the law to the degree of needing one, he has a feeling that this is what it would feel like to be polygraphed. He meets her stare dead on, trying to show his sincerity somehow and hoping that she sees it.

His heart is hammering in his chest when she finally looks away, apparently having found whatever answer she was looking for. He waits with bated breath for her decision call, like waiting for a judge to deliver a verdict. The banging of the gavel comes in the form of her handing him a small packet, the ruling of innocence comes in her words. “I suppose I’d better offer you the same deal as Roland then; candy in exchange for hand holding.”

He hopes she can’t hear the distinct whoosh of breath that escapes him in a relieved sigh. She nods towards his hand and he looks down to see little fish shaped sweets. “You know,” she says, “In theme with the movie and all.”

He grins and reaches out then and there to take her hand in his, because it is too delightfully whimsical not to.

…

She’s never really had reason to do many things one-handed, so, with Killian’s fingers wrapped around hers, she’s struggling to eat her way through most of her candy, the packaging requiring two hands to open it. Which is a dilemma because she really wants some Maltesers, but she also doesn’t want to let go.

It’s an odd feeling for her, this whole thing. Because she’s not quite sure if it’s a date, not quite sure if they’re even friends, are they interested in one another? Are they going to do anything about it? All she knows is that the way his thumb brushes over her knuckles during the whole, “Kiss the Girl” sequence and the way the blue of his eyes is even more vibrant with the reflection of the screen is making her think very non-Disney thoughts. Which is bad. Bad, bad, bad. She should be focused on the movie, but all she can focus on is him.

By the time the end credits roll, she still has a considerable pile of candy next to her, most of her popcorn has gone untouched and her heart is hammering in her chest because it was only a single feature tonight and she needs more time to figure out what is going on in her head. She barely knows this guy, but she knows that she is insanely attracted to him. And, while there might be something else simmering below the surface of that insane attraction, maybe it would be easier to just focus on the physical right now.

Especially until she can get a grip.

The only part of her bad-food feast that she was really able to get through most of one-handed was her extra-large soda. So, as they gather everything together, she uses that as an excuse to stop touching him, telling him that she’ll meet him outside the bathrooms.

He nods, smiling that ridiculous smile of his, “I’ll get the rest of the stuff here.”

And it’s kind of nice that he doesn’t seem fazed by her disgusting eating habits.

She follows the crowd out into the main hallway, internally groaning at the typical line of women she can see in the female toilets. Still, nature is what it is and the ridiculous amount of soda she has consumed is protesting vehemently that she wait in that line, so she joins the queue, pulling out her phone to see if anything is going on in the cyber world that can pass the time and keep her distracted from thoughts of the incredibly hot man who seems to be into her.

What she is greeted with is nothing short of panic. David had been taking Mary Margaret out on a second date tonight, his confidence somewhat boosted after last week and how well the first date had gone between them. But, from his messages, it seems as though he may have gotten _too_ confident. She frowns as she makes her way through the frantic list of messages detailing how he had blurted, “I love you,” at the dinner table and how awkward it was now. He’d tried to take her out for drinks after, but apparently she’s been more interested in speaking with the bartender than she is him and…

_Emma, I need you._

And fuck, because she can’t leave the poor guy hanging like that. Running a hand through her hair, she makes the decision to help her friend, thinking briefly of the gorgeous man who is currently cleaning up her popcorn remains. He’s too much anyway, too handsome, too kind… What has she got to offer to him?

She eventually reaches the front of the queue, hurrying through and stepping back out into the cinema as quickly as she can, spotting Killian across the room. He seems to have ditched the remaining popcorn and is just holding her bag of left over candy. He hasn’t noticed her yet, eyes worried and intent on his phone. She squares her shoulders and walks over to him.

“Before you ask, I can’t go for a drink tonight,” she says, her voice stronger than she feels.

He looks up from his phone, “Aye, love. And I unfortunately cannot ask you for one.”

She frowns because he has been working so hard for this, so why the lack of effort now? Has she done something?

But then he gestures to his phone, “I know this is going to seem horrendously ill-timed and as though I have planned it. But I assure you, I would like nothing more than to take you out tonight. Unfortunately, a co-worker is in need of my charming self and I’m still the new guy, so I need to make a good impression.”

She nods her head along understandingly and also gestures at her phone, “I have a friend in need as well.”

He seems a bit at a loss for words at that point, but he eventually sighs and says whatever has been battling in his mind for the last few moments. “Look Emma, I’m just going to lay it all out here. I like you and I’d like to see you again. And I’d like to have a conversation where we don’t have to stop for the dramatic parts in a movie.” He plucks her phone from her fingers, ignoring everything on the screen and going straight for the little phone icon. He taps out his number, saves it and hands the phone back to her all in record time, “If that’s something you might want to do as well, give me a call.”

It’s weird to have someone just come out and say how they feel. She’s accustomed to weeks of half-assed conversations that lead nowhere and end with no definitive reason. But Killian has stated his intention and she kind of likes him a little more for it. Maybe even enough to consider him as more than a one-night stand. So she nods, “Maybe I will.”

He smiles at that, rocking on his feet before leaning in and brushing a chaste kiss on her cheek. Before she can say anything, he offers, “I’ve been thinking about that since the bloody crab started singing.”

She blushes, her mind immediately going to the less than chaste thoughts she had been having during the same song but, thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice as he’s already sighing in resignation over the fact that he has to go. Reaching out to touch his hand, not really sure what the rules are about touching him when this is so new, she insists that it’s okay, “I’ll call.”

He nods, “I look forward to it.” And then he’s off out the door and she’s left holding a bag of candy that she doesn’t really want any more.

Her phone dings again, another message from David pleading with her to come to the bar. She sighs herself and then pulls it together to drive over and save her friend from himself.

…

He decides to take a shortcut, which happens to be riddled with traffic, and ends up arriving at the bar a solid 15 minutes later than he would have had he just stuck to the original route. But he’s kind of glad he’s had that time to himself – it’s given him a moment to really digest what has happened tonight with Emma and how it’s possible that he’s this far gone after a handful of movies with the lass.

She’s beautiful, that much he’s sure of, but there’s something about her green eyes that have seen less and more than they should have simultaneously. Something so wise and grown up, but also something so young and naïve, still scrambling to catch up on a childhood that she never got to live. He wonders if she sees the same thing reflected in his eyes when he watches these movies for the first time, wonders if she can recognise that they’re not that different, the two of them.

As he finally parks his car and makes his way into the bar, he has to take a moment to wonder if the connection between he and Emma is strong enough that his thoughts about her have just brought her back into his pathway. Because, as he opens the door, he catches a flash of blonde and an expression of utter exasperation on none other than Emma Swan’s face. She’s standing at the bar with David, a pretty raven haired woman at their side – Mary Margaret, he presumes – and it all comes together in his head approximately three seconds before Emma’s eyes meet his.

He’s only been working at the precinct for a few months, still the new detective on the force, but he and David had become fast friends. And when his new mate had started seeing someone and become smitten with the idea of love, he’d started trying to set Killian up with his flatmate. His flatmate who is apparently very into Disney films. It’s becoming exceptionally clear that David hadn’t really needed his help tonight and that Emma is the person he’s been trying to set him up with.

Her eyes narrow as her head swings back to David, the other man already holding his hands up in defence. Gathering his thoughts and his courage, Killian strides forward, stopping just short of where Mary Margaret is looking worriedly between the two people in front of her.

David hurriedly explains himself, “Before you get mad, I just wanted to introduce you two.”

Emma rolls her eyes, “Yeah, I figured something was up when I got here and your date seemed to be enjoying your company just fine.”

Mary Margaret jumps in at that, an apologetic tone to her voice, “Actually, I kind of encouraged it.”

Killian can see Emma physically bite her tongue and almost laughs at what he can only imagine would have been a very sharp response. Instead, she takes a breath and holds out a hand to him. “Emma Swan, flatmate to this dipshit,” she says, nodding her head towards David.

This time he actually does laugh, following her lead and taking her hand to shake, “Killian Jones, co-worker of, how did you say it, lass? Dipshit?”

Without missing a beat, Emma nods and turns back to her friend, “There, you introduced us. Now can we go back to our date?”

David looks between them, highly confused, “Wait, you two know each other?”

Killian jumps in to answer this one, giving Emma a reassuring look, “We’ve seen a few movies together.”

“Ohh,” the other man starts, mouth open wide in understanding, “You’re who she’s been dressing up for.”

Emma’s eyes widen and her hand, which is still loosely gripping his, grabs on tight, pulling him away from the bar and towards the front door, ignoring David and Mary Margaret’s apologies. Once they’re outside, she lets go and he sees the blush in her cheeks just before she turns away from him. “I’m sorry,” she mutters, “he’s like an embarrassing big brother.”

Killian cocks his head to the side, watching as Emma continues to pace, clearly stressed about something she really shouldn’t be stressed over. “What exactly are you apologising for, love?” he asks gently.

She shrugs, “The date thing. I mean, we were just seeing a movie. It didn’t mean any…”

“Emma,” he says, cutting her off, hands on her shoulders to halt her movements, “I would very much like to date you.”

She frowns up at him, “What if I don’t want to date you?”

Now _that_ he hadn’t considered. Removing his hands from the tops of her arms, he takes a step back, “Oh. Well if that’s the case…”

She bites her lip and nods, and he is entirely unconvinced. But she confirms it with, “It is,” and he’s really powerless to do anything about that.

“Right,” he says, awkwardly looking back towards the bar and wishing he could go in for a drink, because that would certainly take the edge off, but Emma’s already heading back inside and he knows the walls of the bar are not wide enough to contain the tension between them.

“I’m sorry, Killian,” she adds, before turning her back completely, leaving him outside and very much wishing he could follow her.

…

A feeling of regret settles over her almost immediately and is only amplified by the look of disappointment on David’s face when she walks back into the bar.

“What was that about?” he asks, handing her a beer when she gets close enough.

She takes a swig from the bottle and plasters a fake smile on her face, “He just had to take off.”

Ever the big brother in her life, David just nods understandingly before turning his attention back towards Mary Margaret. Emma is grateful for that as it gives her a chance to work out what the hell is going on in her mind.

It’s not like she hasn’t dated before; she’s dated, she’s fallen in love and she’s had her heart broken. Just like a lot of people. But, unlike a lot of people, she hasn’t had much of a family or friendship network to fall back on, meaning the heartache kind of just sits in her chest like clouds over her heart, always threatening to rain and making her doubt whether she should even go out there and see what’s happening in the world.

In more recent years having David around has been helpful and she’s started to see the benefits in creating a family around her. And, maybe, if Killian wasn’t a workmate of her flatmate’s, she might have gone there. But the idea of losing David when it all goes to hell with Killian is not something she really wants to entertain.

“You know,” Mary Margaret says, interrupting Emma’s train of thought, “I think I’ve seen you before.”

Emma tilts her head, taking a sip of her drink and trying to place the other woman into a context, “Really?”

“Yeah, you go to the cinema a bit, right?”

She nods slowly, still trying to place the dark-haired woman, “To the Disney films, yeah.”

Mary Margaret must sense her hesitation because she immediately hold up her hands in defence, “I go as well. Just something nice about reliving my childhood. I’ve missed the last couple though because this one,” she gestures towards David, “seems to be reluctant to go.”

Emma smiles at that, knowing how stubborn her flatmate can be and knowing how much shit he gives her for going to as many of the youthful films as possible.

“What have I missed?” Mary Margaret continues, taking a sip of her drink and looking at Emma with a curious gaze.

The thing is though, when Emma tries to think back to the last couple of weeks, all she can see is blue eyes, all she can feel is a warm hand around hers and all she can answer with is, “Umm…” while she tries to scramble together her thoughts.

But, instead of being impatient, Mary Margaret fixes her with a knowing stare, “You should probably go after him,” she mentions.

And it’s weird, because she barely knows who this woman is, but she feels herself _wanting_ to follow her instruction, wanting to leave and chase after the man who makes her feel…something. In that moment she truly feels as though she has been transported back to that childhood she never had, butterflies in her stomach, nerves in her heart and hope in her soul. She turns towards the door, barely hearing David asking Mary Margaret how she did that.

She does hear the other woman’s answer though. “Magic,” she says coyly and Emma has to agree. It does feel like magic.

Even more so when the door opens from the other side and Killian steps back into the bar, his eyes roaming at first and then locking on hers for an eternal second before she gathers her courage and walks over to where he’s standing.

His hand raises to that place behind his ear, scratching as he looks at Emma with unsure eyes. “I, uh… Peter Pan is playing next week,” he says, a question in his tone even though he doesn’t phrase it as one.

She reaches up to pull his hand from his neck, curling her fingers around his and tugging herself a little closer to him, “Will Roland be joining us?”

He frowns a little, “Do you _want_ Roland to join us?”

“Honestly?” He nods encouragingly and she smiles, squeezing his fingers, “I prefer holding your hand.”

…

He wonders, briefly, if she’ll understand what it means when his thumb brushes the very corner of her lips just after the movie. They’re standing at her car and he doesn’t want the night to end, not just yet anyway. The conversation has stalled and he makes the third pass over that spot at the edge of her mouth when she moves that tiny bit closer, when she tells him, “You can take it. My kiss is yours.”

So she does understand, she does understand that she has had a secret kiss on her lips from the moment he laid eyes on her. He touches his own lips there for a moment, the simplicity of the gesture almost breathtaking, before turning his head and pressing into her. She opens up for him, accepting and accommodating, as her hands slide up his arms, one resting on his shoulder, the other curling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

It doesn’t matter that the parking lot is teeming with young families, he just wants to continue this moment of pure enjoyment for a moment more, and then a moment more after that. His own hands wander lower down her back, pulling her into him by the hips. She whimpers her approval and he makes it his soul purpose in life to make her make that exact sound again.

It’s when his hands make their way under her sweater to sit across her bare skin that she pulls away, fixing him with a warning glare. “Maybe we should bring Roland along to help us control ourselves.”

He chuckles, “I am perfectly capable of restraint.” He completely contradicts that with a slight roll of his hips, just enough for her to feel how much he is holding back right now.

She leans in to press another quick kiss upon his lips, pulling back slower this time. “I have work tomorrow, but another time?” she asks, her voice hopeful.

As close as they are, there is still space for him to lean in a little more and bump his nose against hers, “I think _Beauty and the Beast_ is playing next week…”

She grins up at him, kissing him once more before turning to open her car door. It’s just as she’s climbing into the bright coloured bug that she gives her answer, leaving him floored.

“I was thinking something a little less Disney.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? :)


End file.
